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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754543">5 Times Sokka Took Care of Zuko +1 Time Zuko Took Care of Sokka</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/McStupid/pseuds/McStupid'>McStupid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Times, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Disabled Character, Coming Out, Confessions, Cuddling, Eventual Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Permanent Injury, Post-Canon, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Secrets, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, because it's zuko, dw it's just Sokka's leg injury from Sozins Comet, zukka - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:09:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/McStupid/pseuds/McStupid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sokka took care of Zuko, and one time Zuko returned the favor, featuring a blossoming romance along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>549</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>5 Times Sokka Took Care of Zuko +1 Time Zuko Took Care of Sokka</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Quick note- there's a description of a panic attack in vignette #3. It isn't super graphic or intense, but just so you know and can be safe!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>1.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko was fucking exhausted- it had been a long day of meetings with the Earth Kingdom delegates, and while there was still a lot to hash out, he was so frustrated he could cry. Or incinerate the meeting table. Whichever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was that the main delegate from Omashu, a diminutive noblewoman named Ambassador Chio, was extremely elderly and as such had a thin and reedy voice. Which would have been fine, except that protocol demanded she be seated to his left. His scarred side. The side where he couldn’t hear for shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All morning, he had been straining his bad ear and asking her to repeat herself and cursing himself for not paying more attention when Uncle had tried to teach him lip reading after the </span>
  <em>
    <span>incident. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the household staff announced that the luncheon was ready, and the meeting was adjourned for the next hour or so. After everyone else had left, Zuko allowed himself to slouch into the table, kneading his temples with his fists in the hopes of staving off a headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Hotman?” Sokka had entered the room quietly, but took care to announce himself so as not to startle his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Firelord heaved a sigh and, trying to swallow the shame that bubbled in his belly, raised his eyes to Sokka’s, knowing that the warrior wouldn’t make fun. “The representative from Omashu- Chio- has to be seated to my left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Sokka’s eyebrows knitted together. “And she smells bad, or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko huffed irritatedly. “She’s, like, a hundred years old and when she talks it’s barely a whisper. And I can’t keep asking her to speak up but  I can’t hear her for shit.” He almost rolled his eyes at Sokka’s quizzical look. “I mean…” He gestured to his disfigured ear. “It’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>melted, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sokka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, like… no hearing in that ear at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Zuko was determinedly not meeting his friend’s eyes, shuffling scrolls and papers into some semblance of an order. Logically, he knew that Sokka was never cruel or hateful, but also… he couldn’t bear to see the respect and friendship on Sokka’s face be clouded with pity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s amazing!” Sokka crowed, startling Zuko out of his reverie. “Not that, you know, you can’t hear, that sucks man,” Sokka hastily added, catching the way Zuko’s head snapped up. “But,” he grinned, “so cool that you can fight so well that nobody even had a clue!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never even guessed?” Zuko could feel his spirits and the corners of his mouth lifting. He’d always wondered if he was able to compensate in battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never!” Sokka beamed at him enthusiastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s great, but…” Zuko waved his hand irritatedly at Ambassador Chio’s vacated seat, “that doesn’t really solve today’s problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka thought for a moment, tugging his wolf tail in concentration. “She really has to sit there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko nodded. “Something about showing the proper respect? I dunno the protocol, honestly. I have people for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha!” Sokka’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea! Invite me to the second half of the meeting,seat me next to you, and I can fix this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Zuko narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Sokka was his best friend in the world, but he hadn’t quite mastered the art of politicking in the face of half-witted or illogical arguments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, Agni help him, Zuko did trust Sokka. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Ambassador Chio was whispering something at him, but for the life of him, Zuko had no idea what. Something about a lamp? That couldn’t be right. He sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Sokka scratched his chin, apparently deep in thought. “So you want the Fire Nation to build a refugee camp near your Southern gate for people they displaced? Seems only fair to me. What do you think, Firelord Zuko?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A camp! Not a lamp! Of course! Zuko couldn’t help but let a small smile spread across his face. He shot Sokka a thankful look. “I’m sure that can be arranged. How many people need to be housed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old woman murmured something else and Zuko knew he didn’t have a prayer of catching that one, so he glanced at Sokka, who was already speaking. “A few hundred, you say? That seems very doable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko gently knocked ankles with Sokka underneath the table, and Sokka gently kicked his booted foot in return. “Thank you,” he whispered as another representative began to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka just winked. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>

</ol><p>
  <span>Sokka found him lying flat on his back smack in the middle of the hedge maze in the East Garden, staring up at the sunset. He could hardly repress a smile because this level of drama was just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zuko. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, buddy,” Sokka knew better than to sneak up on a brooding Fire Lord. “You missed dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t hungry,” Zuko mumbled stiffly, not making eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a roast. With fire sauce,” Sokka informed him, taking a seat near his friend’s sprawled form. “I’m getting better at eating your spicy stuff, Z.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for you,” Zuko spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to pretend that you said that without being rude,” Sokka replied, relaxing into the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long silence, during which the sun set and Yue began to rise. Sokka found himself asking her to help him deal with this dumb idiot moron in front of him. He meant to be a calming and silent presence, but there’s no accounting for personality, and Sokka finally broke the silence. “You’re really going to make me ask?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sokka…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Zuko?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause, and then Zuko finally sat up, allowing Sokka to see his enormous, wet golden eyes. “Today’s the anniversary,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of… what?” Sokka felt like a horrible friend for not knowing, but in his defense, so many horrific and traumatizing things had happened to Zuko that he was going to need to be a bit more specific. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When my mom left,” Zuko swiped at his eyes, and Sokka scooted closer so that they were sitting cross-legged across from one another, knees touching. It was calming, having Sokka this close. Which was strange, because usually being touched made him flinch and wince. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes. Sokka knew this story, and hated it. He would never, as long as he lived, forget the quiet, desperate, keening sounds that Zuko had made while telling the story the first time, whispered after a night of spice whiskey and secret-telling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka took Zuko’s hands and held them gently. “Can you- I mean, have you tried to look for her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sent a team,” Zuko sighed, seemingly resigned, “but no luck. She’s probably dead, or so deep into hiding we won’t ever find her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka swiped his thumbs gently over Zuko’s knuckles. “Tell me about her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko smiled, even through tears. “She really loved me, Sokka. I know she did. We would feed the turtleducks together every morning. And she used to read theater scrolls to me before bed- she was the one who always took me and Azula to see the Ember Island Players. She loved how bad they were. I…” he faltered. “I can’t really see her face, sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka squeezed his hands and was silent. “I can’t picture my mom’s face anymore, either. I’ve only ever told one other person that. But I’ve thought about it and I think our moms forgive us. We remember who they were, and that’s more important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko leaned forward and laid his head down on Sokka’s shoulder in response. The angle was a little awkward, but his breath caught in his throat when the warrior untangled their hands and wrapped Zuko in a feather-light hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you inside, Z,” he murmured. “How about we find some food and play Pai Sho for a while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Zuko breathed shakily. Agni, he was so lucky. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>

</ol><p>
  <span>Zuko was stressed to absolute fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle had come to visit immediately upon receiving the letter in which Zuko had rather awkwardly informed him that he was gay. And dating Sokka. It was so amazing to have him back for a visit, even if he kept smiling secretively and saying things like “young love is like a flower, freshest in the dawn, and sweetest when preserved,” which made Sokka giggle and gave Zuko a familiar headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was that his visit coincided with a visit from a delegation of very angry officials from Ba Sing Se, all bashing down his doors to demand reparations and re-building help. Sokka was in the habit of making wry comments about the Dai Li- “How can they need gold if there never was a war in Ba Sing Se?”- which would be hilarious if Zuko wasn’t so stressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t slept in days and thought he had eaten a pastry or something at breakfast, but nothing since. The words on the scroll in his hands seemed out of focus, and he angrily squinted to continue reading them. His head throbbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, babe,” Sokka announced himself, gliding into Zuko’s private study. “You look like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, dear,” Zuko muttered absently, barely even letting Sokka’s peal of laughter distract him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do mean it though,” Sokka perched on the edge of Zuko’s desk, right beside his chair. “Have you slept? And before you answer, remember that we share a bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s headache was only getting worse, pounding behind his eyelids. He slid his eyes closed for one brief, blessed moment, sensing Sokka stand and move behind him and wrap warm, tanned arms around his crimson-clad shoulders. Absently, Zuko rubbed his temples aggressively, in the hopes of kneading out the headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, pain seared through his face- </span>
  <em>
    <span>his scar-</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he gasped, jolting back, head connecting with Sokka’s chin. Zuko hardly registered the ache on top of his head or Sokka’s indignant squawk because his scar was suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning </span>
  </em>
  <span>and his hand was covered in </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, could only breathe in smoke and the putrid smell of his own melting flesh, Agni his father was here and he was laughing-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-ko? Zuko, babe?” Slowly, the young Firelord became aware of a voice calmly and quietly cutting through his panic. “Zuko, you’re safe. You’re safe at home, snowflake. It’s just me, Sokka.” Oh. Sokka. Sokka was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko cracked his eyes open and saw a blurry figure smile gently from a few feet away. “Are you back with me, snowflake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sokka,” Zuko managed to choke out, extending his arms so that Sokka knew it was okay to touch him. “I thought my father…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Zuko,” Sokka stepped closer, eyes kind. “It’s okay now. You’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever so gently, Sokka scooped up his royal boyfriend like he weighed nothing, and carried him into the next room, laying him down ever so gently atop the enormous bed in the royal chambers. Zuko hiccuped, still unable to fully stop crying. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m bleeding</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he managed to whisper plaintively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka bit his lip. “I know. You split your skin on the scar, Zuko. Gonna have to clean you up, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko hesitated, then nodded slowly. Yes, Sokka could touch him. Sokka was safe. At his assent, Sokka darted off to the bathroom for supplies. Zuko stifled another sob, and Sokka called “I’m coming- it’s all okay,” from the bathroom, which in fact made Zuko cry harder because he really didn’t deserve all this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka returned with a wet rag and the salve that Zuko usually slathered onto his scar to keep it moisturized. “Have you used this lately?” He asked, holding up the jar of salve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Zuko murmured, shaking his head no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. “I’m not mad. I just needed to know. This might hurt, okay?” He held up the cloth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko nodded jerkily, and Sokka got started cleaning him up. He wiped at the blood tenderly, but the fragile flesh still screamed in discomfort. He was feeling calmer now- the pain grounded him in reality in a jarring way. It was harder to slip into flashbacks this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This next,” Sokka announced, brandishing the jar. “Okay?” Again, he waited for Zuko’s silent assent before smearing a thick layer of salve into Zuko’s scar, carefully working it into every crease and groove, methodically remembering to anoint his fragile ear and to be extra gentle around the eye socket. Zuko had never felt this kind of love before, and he kind of thought he might burst into a million beautiful flames at the way it made him feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka tossed the first aid supplies onto the ground and clambered into bed, pulling Zuko close. “You gotta take a breather, Z.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t,” Zuko muttered tiredly into his boyfriend's chest. “Gotta fix the last hundred years by Tuesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka’s lips quirked up. “Push it to Friday. You forgot your </span>
  <em>
    <span>salve</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The royal groaned into his blue tunic, finding himself unable to argue with the fucking mess of the last half hour. “Fine. Just for tonight. A break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna take a nap and then go bug Uncle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s last thought before tumbling into sleep was how much he loved this man. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>

</ol><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A girl’s high, cold laugh filled his ears, and he gagged on the putrid smell of his own bubbling flesh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko awoke with a gasp and a pounding heart. He lay perfectly still for a moment, taking in his surroundings warily, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Soft. He was laying in something soft and warm. His bed, right. There was a low humming sound, and a… lump beside him. Zuko stiffened. His body tensed for a fight, all systems screaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>danger </span>
  </em>
  <span>until a slice of moonlight illuminated the person sleeping soundly next to him. It was just Sokka, soft brown hair loose and splayed out across the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Zuko wanted to wake his boyfriend, fold himself tiny into Sokka’s strong, tattooed arms and let himself be comforted, let Sokka play with his hair and murmur kindness into his good ear. But another part of Zuko- one that sounded an awful lot like Ozai- demanded that Zuko get up and deal with this himself. After all, he reasoned, this was his problem. Sokka already helped him with so much- it wasn’t fair to wake him up just because Zuko was a gigantic mess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Zuko slid out of bed, careful not to jostle his slumbering boyfriend, and made his way outside to his private balcony. He gripped the railing, taking deep, purposeful breaths. Zuko paid no mind to the silent tears snaking out of his good eye. Experience told him that if he could calm himself, they would stop soon enough. At first, the nightmares had been relentless, agonizing. He would wake up screaming, thrashing about, covered in sweat. Once, he even incinerated his mattress before Uncle could convince him that there was no danger. But now, so many years and so much self-discovery later, the dreams came less, and he was better able to handle them when they did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko tilted his head up to stare at the moon. Sokka’s ex. He nodded a polite greeting at her, then let his eyes travel on across the celestial plains. It calmed him to know that the same stars twinkled down on Uncle, on Aang and Katara and Suki and Toph, on Mai, even on his mother- wherever she was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slid open behind him, and Zuko was proud of himself for only jumping a little bit. “Hey, snowflake,” Sokka’s voice was rough with sleep. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko didn’t turn. “Fine. You should go back to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Sokka padded across the balcony to stand next to Zuko, leaning against the railing so that their shoulder bumped. He was still warm from the blankets. “I want to be with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko didn’t trust himself to answer, so he just knocked his shoulder gently into Sokka’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was calming for a minute, but of course Sokka was never one to let a silence simmer. Despite himself, Zuko loved this about him. “You know, my dad once told me that the nightmares are part of being a warrior. He said there’s no shame in a nightmare, because it means you survived the battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko snorted despite himself. “He needs to stop talking to Uncle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it,” Sokka replied, wrapping an arm around Zuko’s pajama-clad shoulders. “You survived, Z.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t dream about battles,” Zuko huffed, somehow irritated. Sokka knew what he dreamed about- why was he playing the idiot?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Sure sounds like you went through a battle to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t fight back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, you know what a metaphor is,” Sokka replied, without venom. A beat. Then, “You should wake me up next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really can handle it on my own,” Zuko insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no doubt,” Sokka pressed a kiss to his temple. “But you don’t have to. Just consider it, will you?” Without waiting for Zuko’s answer, Sokka pressed on. “But for now, let’s go inside. You can be the little spoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Zuko blurted out, surprising himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A goofy grin spread across Sokka’s face. “I love you too, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>

</ol><p>
  <span>Zuko’s shoes clacked gently along the stone floor as he steadily made his way down the steps, into the bowels of the prison where Ozai was being housed. Every step that brought him closer to his father sent a new memory, a new chill, reverberating through him, but he had to do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Firelord Zuko. Ambassador Sokka.” the warden had bowed in greeting, meeting his royal procession just inside the prison gates. “Thank you for coming, Your Majesty. I was not certain if-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Zuko inclined his head in greeting. “Thank you, Warden Xu. I wanted to see for myself.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sokka nodded respectfully to the warden. “Are you sure he’s-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Quite.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sun beat down, uncomfortably hot. Zuko was acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of his neck, causing his tunic to stick to his shoulder blades underneath his ceremonial outer robes. He felt sick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please,” Xu seemed to have the same thought, “come into my office, where I can tell you more.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He turned to lead the way, and Sokka discreetly grabbed Zuko’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Zuko turned to look at his boyfriend, who raised his eyebrows, asking a silent question. Zuko sighed deeply and nodded before following the warden into the imposing stone building. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As he reached the bottom of the staircase, Zuko forced himself to take a deep, calming breath, just like Uncle had shown him all those years ago. He wished he hadn’t left Sokka up in the warden’s office to wait for him, but this was something he had to do on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guards lining the long hallway each inclined their heads respectfully as he passed. The passage was well-lit, uncomfortably so, and Zuko felt himself under a magnifying glass. He paused in front of a heavy stone door. Beyond it, he knew he would find his father’s cell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be just out here, Your Majesty.” The guard nearest the door spoke up. “In case…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Zuko heard himself say, and the door was opened for him, then closed with a resounding thud as soon as he had cleared the threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cell was just like the one Uncle had been imprisoned in, albeit more heavily reinforced. A single candle flickered, doing little to illuminate the dim room. Zuko inhaled once more, steeling himself, then called a flame to his hand so that he could see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father’s figure lay on the simple bed-pallet. Once fearsome and chiseled, he seemed frail and gaunt underneath the drab prison garb. Ozai’s once-luscious hair was tangled and greasy, and his eyes held none of the malicious rage that Zuko was so familiar with- they looked blank and glassy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ozai,” he greeted his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, the former firelord finally acknowledged his presence, although he did not sit up. Perhaps, Zuko thought, he couldn’t. “The traitor,” he sneered. “The cowar-” Ozai broke off into a coughing fit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko waited patiently for it to end, feeling strangely detached from it all. “You aren’t well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably because you stuck me in this filthy pit,” Ozai spat. “And your little friend stole my </span>
  <em>
    <span>bending.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko acknowledged the likelihood with a simple inclination of the head. Was this the calm Uncle was always talking about seeking? He somehow didn’t think that Iroh would have wanted him to feel so disassociated from his surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to watch me die, have you?” Ozai’s lip curled in a familiar way, before he succumbed to another fit of heaving, dry coughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve come to tell you goodbye.” Zuko had no idea where these words were coming from, but they felt right. He spoke calmly and clearly. “And that in spite of everything you’ve done to me, I am a good man and a strong leader. Is there anything you would like to say to me? This is your chance to make things right before you go to the Spirit World.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ozai managed to raise his head just enough to send a feeble glob of spit soaring in Zuko’s direction. “That’s all I have to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko almost laughed, because... how fitting an end. “Goodbye, then.” He turned on his heel and strode away from his father for the last time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back outside, in the harsh sunlight, Sokka was waiting. “You… okay?” He asked cautiously as they climbed into the royal carriage- not the palanquin, because after his exile, Zuko found the whole concept appalling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” the Firelord replied tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Sokka replied disbelievingly, resting a gentle but grounding hand on Zuko’s leg as the carriage bounced along. But, to his credit, the Water Tribe warrior remained silent for the duration of the trip, and even until they were alone in the royal chambers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… kind of feel like you should talk about this,” Sokka broached the topic again as soon as Zuko had changed out of his royal robes and tossed his headpiece onto the dresser. “Like, I love you,” he continued as he wrestled his way out of his own outerwear and flopped into the massive bed beside Zuko, “but you’re… like, the king of bottling shit up and I’m worried one day- BOOM!- you’ll just explode! And of course you don’t have to talk to me, but it should be someone because-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Zuko sighed, deflated. “You’re rambling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of us has to talk,” Sokka grumbled good-naturedly, but fell silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was strange,” Zuko finally muttered. “It was like… Ozai did everything I expected him to do. Even dying- he still hates me, still wanted me dead, but… I didn’t react at all. I didn’t even feel afraid. Or angry. Just… nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” was all Sokka offered, sitting up against the pillows and adjusting them so that Zuko was laying in between Sokka’s legs, head on his chest. “Do you still feel nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko laughed, and was horrified to hear that his laughter had a soggy quality to it. “Um- I don’t…” he took a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to feel,” he admitted, sniffling a bit. “I mean… he’s evil. And he abused me. And like- committed genocide. I should be happy he’s dying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s my father.” Zuko scrubbed at his face in irritation. “And I can’t figure out whether to celebrate or be fucking sad, and what if he’s dying because </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>put him in that prison? And I don’t even wanna </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>about the stupid diplomacy of it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, woah,” Sokka’s large warm palm rubbed circles on Zuko’s back. “The PR thing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone else’s job. And, like, you’re allowed to be sad. Or happy. Or both, or neither. Whatever you need to do. If you want to throw a fucking feast, I’ll be right there at the head table. If you want to do the traditional month of mourning, I can find some black robes. Whatever you need, snowflake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko took a steadying breath. “You always know what to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talk a lot,” Sokka chuckled. “At some point it’s just probability that I’ll stumble onto the right words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we stay here for a little while? Until the reception for the Omashu ambassadors tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Sokka placed a gentle kiss at the crown of Zuko’s head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>+1.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka gritted his teeth, bowing to the inevitable and gingerly maneuvering onto a bench, handily placed near the path in one of the palaces’ inner courtyards. He shouldn’t have tried to cut through the courtyard today- not with its uneven flagstones and slippery gravel, still sodden from a recent rain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka huffed a sigh, massaging his knee carefully. The pain was especially bad today, and he’d known since he had been woken up by a jolt of pain that it would be a rough day. The leg that he broke during his stupid airship slice manuever during Sozin’s Comet had never quite healed right, despite his sister’s best efforts. He also knew he should have used his cane today, and that if Katara were here, she’d be beating him over the head with it for purposefully choosing not to. But he had just come from a meeting with Zuko’s hardass War Minister this afternoon, and Sokka was trying to project </span>
  <em>
    <span>strength, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not remind everyone that he was weak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his fists tightly as a spike of pain flared through his leg. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knew it wasn’t logical, but Sokka was overcome by the urge to just wrench his knee off and send it flying across the gardens- just to make the pain </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Breathing through his nose the way Iroh had once taught him, Sokka tried to count to ten in his head- anything to distract from the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt so weak, literally benched out here while everyone bustled around the palace with their own important work to do. Servants scuttled down the halls and through the corridors, cooking and cleaning and keeping the enormous household running. Politicians strode purposefully from meeting to meeting, ready to enact laws and draft policies, while scribes and secretaries jogged behind, filling up scroll after scroll with official pronouncements. Zuko, too- he was always in a meeting or going over a policy proposal or writing to another leader… Sokka was the only one who wasn’t able to do his fucking job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” a familiar raspy voice said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka opened his eyes, mortified to find that they had gone moist. “Hey,” he muttered, patting the bench next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko sat, careful to avoid jostling Sokka’s bad leg. “Wondered where you’d gone off to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxiety flared in Sokka’s stomach. “Did I miss a meeting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Zuko’s hand found his clammy one and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your schedule is over for the rest of the afternoon. Can’t I just miss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like I can do anything important anyway,” Sokka pouted. Hey, he was man enough to admit that he was pouting, but he deserved it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko was quiet for a moment. “You know you’re very important to me whether or not you can do any job ever again,” he finally replied. “But you’re an amazing Ambassador, and the world is very lucky to have you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing about Zuko was that even the most basic compliment or kind gesture could reduce him to a blushing, fumbling mess, but he was somehow able to deliver the most sincere pronouncements without blinking. Sokka would definitely have to be hiding behind a rock before he could even convince himself to say something so earnest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Sokka blurted out in response, face aflame. It wasn’t the first time he had said it, but it still felt… weighty. Like it was a secret, like he wasn’t allowed to profess his love in the daylight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Zuko stood up. “Now, come on. Are you leaning on me, or am I carrying you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sokka squawked indignantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko shrugged. “Do you want to stay out here all day, or do you want to lay in my bed, where you can rest your leg and ring a bell to request hot towels and fresh fruit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long, irritated pause from the Water Tribe warrior. Then a muttered, “Lean on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko nodded and helped Sokka stand, graciously ignoring the hiss of pain that escaped between his teeth as his knee protested the motion. It was a slow, tedious walk back to the royal chambers, and Sokka’s forehead was beaded in sweat by the time he finally collapsed into the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot towel? Ice? Are you thirsty?” Zuko hovered awkwardly by the bed. This wasn’t really his area. If only Uncle were here, or maybe Katara. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka huffed out an exhausted laugh. “Just come lay with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mindful of Sokka’s fragile knee, Zuko carefully slid into the massive bed, adjusting his boyfriend so that Sokka was reclining into Zuko’s chest. Gently, he untied Sokka’s hair from its wolf tail, placing the hair ribbon on the nightstand carefully. “It’s a war wound, Sokka,” he said softly, carding his fingers through soft brown hair. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone else-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone else didn’t fall off an airship and save Toph’s life,” Zuko interrupted. “I think you’ve earned a rest day every now and again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka hummed wearily, being lulled into sleep by Zuko’s placating words and the soft fingers scratching at his scalp. “I like that… ‘m buying it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Zuko laughed softly. “You should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just gonna take a little nap,” Sokka mumbled. “So good to me, Z. Gonna marry you someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s mouth dropped open and his breath caught, but before he could say anything, he heard a soft snore from Sokka, and couldn’t help but stifle a laugh into his wrist. Absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>classic </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sokka. The love he felt for this ridiculous person felt so all-encompassing he wasn’t sure if his chest might explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t wait,” he finally whispered back, settling in to wait for Sokka to wake up. </span>
</p>
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